


Embers

by rock_lee



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, im love? orcs?, u kno..... i love orcs so much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:45:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8666269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rock_lee/pseuds/rock_lee
Summary: Love is a mysterious and beautiful thing - just like fire, in a way. 
And boy, does Sylgja love fires. 
[ pretty much a self indulgent fic of my favorite skyrim oc getting cozy with my favorite npc! human/orc loving ]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sylgja is my irl wife and i love her so much idk what anyone says!! she's real in my heart and that's all that matters ok
> 
> one of my favorite authors is zoop (just go into the human/orc tag she has sooo many great stories!) really inspired me to kinda post something that i've had written for YEARs so lmao here u go.....

Sylgja had always loved the wonders of fire. It had such a rich, hazy scent. It gave off a warmth that magic and hot meals couldn’t. It shed light even in the darkest rooms. It brought people together. It always tickled memories hidden in the back of her mind - her father, teaching her how to smelt, or her mother, lighting a torch in the dark crevices of the first mine she was in. Little things. 

It also made her think of the boys of Shor’s Stone. Filnjar, who once caught the tail end of his tunic on fire when she was young, when life was abundant in the settlement. The children (including her, for it was so long ago) had roared with laughter at the frantic show he put on. So long ago… they had called him Old Man Firepants for months after the incident. 

Odfel was a lot like a well-fed fire- big and showy, always on the prowl for attention. Sylgja would fondly remember the younger days when he had yet to grow chin hair. He was so exuberant, eager to show off for the lovely teenage girls (yes, she was one of them, rosy in the cheeks whenever he would flirt with her. He was always chased off by her mother for being ‘a meddling young boy’). He had been asked to feed the firewood as it dwindled one night, and he had tripped with arms full, nearly falling in himself. His face had become redder than the mountain flowers when the girls had giggled at him.

The crackling of the wood always made her think of Grogmar. His laugh was a loud, breaking sound. He always had the best stories when the children gathered around his feet. Tales of a life once lived as a warrior, an adventurer who rode from one end of Skyrim to the other with his Orsimer brothers. The warm of his joy was so easily passed to them, like a spark to kindle.

But this time, across the flames and faces of the last inhabitants of Shor’s Stone, she didn’t feel or think any of those things. 

A dark horse, its body slick with sweat and streaks of mud (blood? It was too dark to tell) and racing into the settlement. It was frantic, neighing like it was mad, swinging its massive head around and stamping its huge hooves into the rocky soil. 

Odfel had jumped up, as well as a few of the lurking guards, when the horse trampled closer to the fire. Its eyes spoke of fear in the glinting light of the fire, pupils blown wide and rolling back. Froth foamed at its mouth as it whinnied again, louder, hoarser.

“Careful!” Grogmar yelled as a log fell. He had stood to stop a guard from drawing his sword. “It’s injured! Take the lad off it’s back as calmly as possible! Someone grab its damned reins!”

Sylgja gasped. She hadn’t even noticed the rider. The horse was so massive and powerful that she hadn’t even realized it wasn’t the only thing charging in. The rider was slumped unconscious in the saddle, a torn shirt wrapped around their lap and legs. Was that flimsy cloth holding them to the raging horse?! The steel armor was scorched nearly black, the helmet dented so badly she feared the stranger’s head might actually be soup underneath. A bow was strung across the back of the rider, but instead of arrows being in the quiver, at least three stuck out of the armors weak spots. 

Odfel had managed to approach the horse and snag it’s reins after it landed a heavy kick on one of the guards. Filnjar had dropped his bowl and ran past her, stopping only to shove her gently back as she tried to stand. “No,” he growled, “you aren’t healed yet. Stay put.”

“Filnjar-!” He gave her a sharp look. She clamped her mouth shut. There was no arguing with the old man. He was their unofficial leader of sorts. What he says, goes. 

He helped Grogmar hastily untie the rider as Odfel and two of the soldiers held the horse still and as calmly as they could. The two older men clearly weren’t expecting the rider being so heavy. Grogmar cursed as the wounded man slipped from his hands and onto the ground with a hard thump. 

She swallowed when she heard the low groan from the rider. At least they weren’t dead yet. As they heaved the armored rider back up, the horse bucked again, knocking a soldier loose. Its head was reared toward its rider as Grogmar and Filnjar dragged the body toward Filnjar’s home. 

She shot up despite the twinge of pain in her legs. “Odfel, the horse!” Immediately, Odfel placed his hands on the horse’s flaring nose, shushing to it. It flicked it’s ears violently and stamped nervously. She waddled over to Filnjar and grabbed his arm. The muscles in the old man's arms were straining to lug the weight after him. “Take him to my home. It’s closer and I have more means of healing then you do.” 

His weathered face crinkled in disagreement, but Grogmar grunted his agreement. “She’s right. Hurry Filnjar, he is injured bad.” 

Scowling, Filnjar turned toward her home and she awkwardly made her way to the door. Her legs felt like boiling jelly. She needed to sit. Soon. Fumbling with the handle, she managed it open just as Grogmar cursed behind her. “The boy’s trailing blood all over!” 

“Never mind the blood,” she urged, “put him on the bed. Get the armor off him.” They nodded and she quickly added, “Leave the helmet on! We don’t know what the damage is to his head.” If it was bad, keeping the only thing holding his head together was necessary.

As they dragged him over to the bed, Sylgja moved as fast as she could to the shelf of her potions and herbs. Her fingers fumbled over the materials she needed and she cursed herself when a wrap of linen slipped from her fingers. With arms now full, she returned to the men on the other side of the room. Her foot slipped in the trail of blood. She grimaced. 

“He’s breathing fine, the lucky bastard,” Grogmar muttered, “but his wrist is nearly severed.”

Sylgja held back the bile as she looked at the wrist. It flopped at an awkward angle against the furs of her bed. Even the braced couldn’t hide the damage, but it seemed it stopped the power behind whatever blade almost took his hand off. Dark dried blood seemed to have stopped the flow before, but with the recent move from his horse to her home, it had started to bleed again. 

Filnjar carefully removed the opposite bracer, dropped it to the floor, and began working on the steel boots caked with mud and dust. She moved to the right side of the bed, toward the twisted hand. Grogmar gave a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder as he shuffled out of the way. 

“As soon as the armor is removed,” her voice shook, “please give me room. I fear I might vomit.”


	2. Chapter 2

When the last of her supper left her stomach - nearly an hour later - she had gone through three fourths of her healing supplies. Only one wrap of gauze was left, but her fingers had bloodied it. 

He was near naked now, only left in his loincloth and helmet. She dreaded removing it, but she knew she must. If he was to survive any fatal head wounds, she needed to see under the warped steel. 

He was an Orsimer, which hadn’t surprised her nearly as much as it should have been. It hadn’t registered with her when his under-armor shift was removed, but Grogmar’s crackling laugh had snapped her concentration enough to listen to what had humored him. “Of course it’s one of my kind. What kind of adventurer stumbles half dead into a mining settlement but an Orc? No Nord would dare.” She vaguely recalled how Grogmar had joined the settlement in a similar (although a lot less bloody and dramatic) way. 

His skin was dark and olive after she cleaned the blood from it. She did blush a little at his physique. No doubt he was a strong warrior. 

She tilted his helmeted head and waiting for any telltales of serious injuries as she inspected. Giving an experimental wiggle, she was rewarded with a soft groan. What she could see of his face was twisted in pain and smattered with blood. Well, he was still alive, so that was good. It took time and a few well-placed twists, but the helmet squeezed off of his head. Her eyes widened at the face that was hidden beneath. 

By the Divines, he was young! Not some weathered adventurer past his prime, but a smooth faced man that couldn’t be much older than she. The straight nose was broken and his lip was split, but besides that and the huge lump on the side of the head, his face was fine. His tusks were shorter and gleamed white in the light of the torch. 

He was quite handsome, she mussed as she shakily continued to heal him. She was no mage, but alchemy and potions had come easy to her. She pushed back the strands of dark brown hair from his face before wiping his forehead. 

Filnjar moved to her side. They had scrubbed the blood while she worked. “Come child, let’s get you cleaned up.”

\---

The fire from the night before was now nothing but a pile of ash. The morning birds cooed at the warmth of the sun, basking in it as they flitted all around. The massive mare from the night before was tethered to a tree beside her home, it’s pack and saddle sitting on her porch. It was calm now. It had been struck by two arrows apparently, both broken shafts in her flanks. A close burn had created a streak of bare skin along her sleek neck. Other than that, the mare was fine. Odfel had left her a bucket of water and some apples which had been taken care of in minutes. 

“Has the rider woken yet?” One of the guards, a man named Brank, asked as he polished his helmet across from her. 

She shook her head. She had stayed the night in Filnjar’s home, both worried that if the stranger awoke, he would attack. When they had walked into her home that coming morning, they were relieved to see him still asleep. “He hasn’t woken yet,” she murmured softly. She was still sore from standing so long. It ached all up her back and spread like lava across her hips. “I would be surprised if he did wake so soon. He was closer to death than we had thought.”

Brank shook his head. He was so… Nord. Pale and blond, blue eyes that seemed to be made of frost. “I don’t like him recovering in your home. Trouble always comes from strangers.” He held her gaze for a little longer. “When he awakes, come get me. I’ll protect you.”

Sylgja prided herself on not outright blanching on Brank. “Thank you for your concern,” she said instead, “but I’ll be fine.” Not letting him reply, she signaled the end of the conversation by standing. Ugh, men. Always putting her on the same level as prissy noblewoman who hadn’t touched an axe in their lives. She was strong! She knew how to fight. She didn’t need a man protecting her.

Hobbling back to her door, she sighed. Such a life she was stuck in. These useless guards roamed around their settlement like mosquitos, annoying and leeching off of them. It was becoming bothersome to play nice with them. 

The door creaked as she stepped in and she winced. She would need to oil it’s hinges soon. She stepped in and shut the door behind her. “Damn it…” her legs hurt so bad…

She looked up and met startled milky blue eyes. The Orsimer was leaning against the table, holding his side and awkwardly hunched over. His right hand, the one that was nearly severed, was held tight against his chest in its sling. She rose her hands up in caution. It appeared he had wiggled on his dirty trousers as well, but hadn’t managed his tattered shirt. “You shouldn’t be standing,” she murmured, “please, go lay back down.”

He didn’t move. His mouth opened, but he instantly closed it. He suddenly looked older than when he was asleep - the taut lines on his forehead had appeared and his lips were pulled into a confused frown. 

Sylgja took a step closer and he straightened as much as he could. He was massive! How had she not noticed him when his mare came charging in? He stood a good head taller than her, his shoulders (although hunched in) were broad and lined with straining muscles. 

“Where am I?” His voice was deep, but not as deep as she would have suspected. His good hand was shaking and she could see weak sparks forming. He knew magic. 

She spoke as soft as she could. “Shor’s Stone, base of the mountain north of Riften.” 

He instantly slouched over, sighing in defeat. “Than I'm safe. Thank you.”

She laughed softly. “Safe? When your mare ran into our settlement, you already had one foot in the grave.”

His returning chuckle was dry. “That's expected when you ride into what was supposed to be an abandoned fortress.” He met her gaze again. “Bandits apparently don't care if half if it is sunken in the ground.”

A bandit attack. That makes sense. The wounds were from arrows and steel, no teeth or claws. “I’m sorry that happened,” she tried again gently, “but right now, you really should lay down or sit. You’re still very much hurt.”

He stared at her long, his eyes - the color or something so soft and warm, yet so pale and void - seemed to pick and pry her apart.   
“You were the one who helped me?” His voice was quieter now, the gruff of misuse finally drifting off. She shook her head. 

She hobbled to the tables seat, passing him without an inkling of fear (or at least she hoped she looked like she did) to sit in one of the seats. She sighed happily, the tension in her legs finally releasing. “I only treated your wounds. The others had been the ones to calm your horse and get you in here.”

He sat down too, much slower and with a deep grimace. “My horse. Is she alright?” 

Sylgja nodded. “One of the miners had treated her wounds and tethered her outside.” She plucked an apple from the bowl, eyes never glancing away from his own steady gaze. “She’s a beautiful horse.”

He nodded with a smile, one large hand resting on the surface of the table. She could see the callouses run every inch - the hand of a hard worker. “Valia is a purebred from Whiterun.” He spoke with pride. “A thousand gold for her. Worth every last piece.” 

“Whiterun?” She questioned, looking back to his face. He was eyeing the other apple in the bowl. She placed hers in front of him. He took it with a small nod of thanks. “What has you so far from home?”

He snorted and clumsily grasped the fruit. Seems his right is his dominant hand. He thumbed the surface of the apple before propping his arm up by the elbow, fruit closer to his mouth as he awkwardly leaned. “Home? My home is not Tamriel.” Sylgja said nothing as he bit into the apple. His eyes fluttered blissfully and she vaguely wondered when he had his last meal. What was a foreigner doing out in the middle of nowhere? Most foreigners stuck to the cities to look for opportunities. 

She stood and walked to the pitcher in her designated kitchen. His eyes had snapped open instantly, following her as she moved. She poured two cups in clear view before returning. “Here.” She set it down in front of him with a smile. “You must be thirsty.”

And lo and behold, the orc blushed. She rose her eyebrows as she sat, watching his cough into his wrist with tinted cheeks. “Are you alright…?” 

He nodded jerkily, growing darker. “U-Uh, yes, yes. It’s just, um, I…” He glanced away in embarrassment. “I don’t like to… drink in front of people.” 

Sylgja snorted. “Why would that be?” 

He vaguely motioned to his tusks. “T-These, uh, always get in the way.” 

She laughed and he ducked his head. So he was a quirky guy, huh? She mused. How endearing. “Don’t be. I’ve grown up watching Grogmar dribble all over the place. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Another Orsimer?” He questioned instead, shyly looking up. Sylgja nodded slowly. He put the apple core down and looked thoughtful. “... Is he Blood-kin?”

“Excuse me?” Sylgja asked, once more confused. The Orc just shook his head, no longer wanting to dwell on the subject.   
“I do not know your name. You aided both Valia and I when we were both injured. I owe you.” 

Sylgja hesitated. Is it wise to tell this stranger her name? He could turn out to be a psychopath… 

He awkwardly ran his finger along the rim of the cup, trying hard not to look so out of place. His face was still a little colored with a dusky blush, and his milky eyes were looking anywhere but her as he waited. 

Well, even if he was a psychopath, what would that mean? Every person in Skyrim these days were crazy. “I’m Sylgja, the best miner in all of Skyrim,” she answered with a small smirk. He looked up from his cup when she spoke. She extended her hand for a handshake. He cleared his throat and reached out with his able left hand.

His fingers were long and like she noticed before, calloused and strong. Her entire hand fit in just his palm! “Nice to meet you Sylgja. I owe you not only my life, but Valia’s as well. I am in your debt, truly.”

She shook her head with a smile. “Well, for starters, you can tell me your name.” He sputtered in embarrassment and released her hand. 

“I’m sorry. I-I never really know how to… interact with people.” He laughed softly and Sylgja propped her chin up in her hand. He had such a soft voice she noticed, not harsh and biting like Grogmar’s. It still had a rumbling undertone to it and it was deep, but no anger could be sensed behind the words. Only kindness.

“Haven’t spoken to humans often?” 

He blinked at her before shaking her head. “Uh, no, nothing like that. My mother… She’s human. I know well how to act with humans.” He traced some swirls in the tables top, a faraway look gleaming in his eyes. “The villagers just went out of their way to avoid me. Not much room for social skills to grow when the only person willing to talk to you is your mother.” 

...Human mother? That means his father is the Orc blood. Huh. She didn’t even know that was possible. Humans and Orcs didn’t tend to, well, mix. It was considered taboo at best. Orc’s were viewed more as wild animals than citizens and both sides knew how they weren’t supposed to glance at each other with such thoughts.

“That’s a shame,” she murmured and caught his milky eyes again. They were strangely alluring. “You seem like such a nice fellow too. Fine person to talk to.”

His cheeks seemed to light up again and he chuckled oddly. “Thank you, Sylgja. My name is Kim.”

She snorted but quickly quieted it with her hand. His blush was full bloom again and his eyes once more had abandoned hers. Curses! She didn’t mean to be so rude! “Is it short for something?” 

“...No,” he mumbled, “My mother thought I was going to be a girl. The name stuck even after my gender was revealed. It’s just Kim. Kim Andrit.”

She lowered her hand and bit her lip. Now she felt bad. “It’s a lovely name, really. Now that I think about it, it suits you.” Soft, gentle. Simple too.

His grin returned and he shyly looked up again. “Thank you. Sylgja is a beautiful name as well. Matches you perfectly.”

Oh. Was that a flirtatious compliment? She laughed again, shaking her head. What an odd man. Odd, but at the same time, so very normal. “Come then Kim. I insist you lay back down. Rest some more. You’re welcome here until you are healed.” 

He stood slowly and so did she. The ache of her hips and legs came back tenfold. He smiled at her. “I cannot repay enough for your kindness. Honestly.”

She reached over and gently laid her hand on his bicep. His skin was warmer now that he wasn’t nearly dead. “I’ll remember that when you are abled again. I have many chores that need finishing.”

He laughed, eyes warm with mirth. “Anything you want; I will happily do for you. It’s all I can offer.”


	3. Chapter 3

In four days’ time, Kim was out of the house. Odfel didn’t like Kim at all, but Grogmar and Filnjar had warmed up to his as easily as she had. Kim had a certain awkwardness to him that apparently drew people in. How had his village been able to avoid him? He was so approachable. 

During the day, Sylgja had learned much about her new friend. She was banned from the mine until her legs had improved enough for Filnjar’s approval, so she had more than enough time to learn about her patient.

He was from a small village in High Rock, born and raised by only his mother, who had been sickly most of her life. Ever since he could remember, he had done all he could to support her. He took up hard labor others shied from and tasked that proved too dangerous for the Bretons who inhabited his village.   
When she asked how he had managed to find himself in Skyrim, his face had grown dark. 

“The men of the village,” he growled - growled! - as he looked away from her, “told my mother that her lover, my father, was last seen in Skyrim. My mother spoke so highly of him and she cared for him much, so she did what any desperate person in love might.” He had bared his teeth in a snarl, but softened sadly at the thought of his mother. “She begged me to go find the man. I love my mother so I agreed. Mind you, I never take jobs that take me too far from her. She needs me more than she cares to admit.” His anger still bit through his voice even as he spoke of his mother. 

“Did you find him?” She had inquired curiously. He shook his head. 

“No. The villagers no doubt lied to her. They hated us for who my father was. Most Breton’s are racist little things. I was duped and ended up being caught toeing the border in my search. The Imperials knocked me out cold and well, I found myself lined up for execution in Helgen.”

When he said Helgen, her eyes had gone wide. Helgen! She asked if he had been around for the dragon attack and he told the story of how he had been there when the black dragon appeared. It had saved his life from the executioner and he had escaped with an Imperial man and a Redguard woman. 

Apparently, that had been only two months ago. “I've been traveling since, trying to contact my mother and tell her I'm alive. I worry for her.” 

“But weren't you to speak to the Jarl in Whiterun? How will he know of the dragons?” 

His bark of laughter was bitter. “They wouldn't let me enter Dragon’s Reach without ‘proper clearance’. They let the Redguard woman in though. I have no doubt she had reported to the Jarl. She was human enough.” 

That's all Sylgja needed to hear on that matter. Kim had faced hardships she would never know. She couldn't share the feeling with him. 

 

Nearly three weeks later, Sylgja caught him brushing Valia in the early morning. He still slept in her home and her still in Flinjar’s, but some nights, he would try to give her bed back to her, insisting he could sleep on the floor of the porch. She fought him back onto the furs every time. 

Valia was a friendly mare Kim had told her. She doesn't spook easy and she loves to fight (much to his dislike). 

As she approached the two, she noticed Kim wasn't just brushing her - he was healing her with magic. His hand was a shimmering gold mess of magic as he soothingly ran it along the mare's flank. 

Sensing her, Kim spoke. “Valia had an infection where the arrows hit. Whoever treated her before didn't do much but rip them out of her.” He turned to face her and lowered his now dimming hand. “She's been in pain all this time. Poor girl didn't even whine about it.”

Valia snorted and Sylgja waddled closer. Kim offered her his hand when he saw her shaky steps. She had given him the run down on her own injuries when he noticed the odd way she walked.

She took his hand and grasped his fingers as she hopped down from her porches ledge. “I'm sorry. I'll yell at Odfel for it later.”

He chuckled. “No need. The last thing we need is him finding more reasons to dislike me.” 

Sylgja smiled, letting go of his hand to instead stroke against Valia’s thick hide. She was a large, heavyset mare with a coat that would keep her warm in a blizzard. How the horse didn't pass from heatstroke on even the coldest days was a mystery. “Don't mind Odfel. He's always been the jealous type.”

Kim tilted his head to the side and Sylgja looked at him. The morning light made the hard angles of his face softer. “He no doubt doesn't like that I'm spending so much time with another male. He's always been like that.” Kim rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, wincing a bit at the tug it brought to his still healing wounds. 

“I swear, all the men here in Skyrim treat women so horribly.” 

She laughed and leaned against Valia. The mare snorted and moved her head to nibble at the small human. “Well, they can't all be gentlemen. You wouldn’t be special then.”

Kim stared at Sylgja with a small smile and she felt something… Odd. 

The feeling of fluttering in her stomach. She bit her lip and pushed off of Valia. The mare shifted her weight at the sudden change. 

“Well, I'm going to go wake Grogmar and Odfel now. The ore won't mine itself.” He nodded with that soft smile of him and her heart tightened. 

“I’ll speak with you later Sylgja.” She scurried off before he could see the pink flitting onto her cheeks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lil short guy while i work my ass of for finals..,,,,, god i Hate College

Late that same afternoon, Sylgja found herself sitting on her front porch, watching as Valia humored the stray hound of their settlement. 

Kim sat beside her in silence, rolling a piece of long grass between his fingers. The silence was companionable. The others were in the mine, the clinking of their pick axes echoing faintly. Two of the guards were squabbling over something a bit further away. 

“Is it always this dull around here?” Kim grumbled and dropped his grass so he could lean back on his one hand.

She looked over at him with a grin. “Of course. Mining isn't exactly exciting work.” 

He huffed and then groaned. He let his head fall back and his eyes closed. Sylgja chuckled softly and let her eyes soak him in. 

He was no doubt an Orc, but the Breton in him was easily noticeable. He had a very soft and curved jawline. His nose was pressed close to his face like an orc but the tip of it was more human. His eyes weren't as sunken back as others and his face lacked the distinctive wrinkles that Orcs of all ages always seemed to have on their foreheads. His tusks were also much smaller than male Orcs, but still bigger than any female. His chin was more rounded as well. His hair was shorn on the sides, nothing but stubble and a strip of thick dark brown hair down the middle was pulled back into a messy little ponytail. It was greasy, she noticed, no doubt from his lack of bathing since joining them and her constantly trying to get it perfect for him when he asked her to. His wrist, despite his incredible healing magic, wasn’t improving at the same pace everything else was. 

“Hey,” she murmured, watching as his milky eyes flickered open. 

He blinked up at her as if he had forgotten she was there. “Yes?” 

“Want to go do something? Nothing bad,” she added quickly at his skeptical look. “There's this small pond not too far from here. We use it to bathe.” She grinned at him. “Besides, you stink.” 

He snorted and crinkled his nose as if in agreement. “Well, I have been sleeping in your bed…” 

She smacked his shoulder with a ‘hey!’ and he laughed. “I'll go grab some stuff quick. Hope you're up for a little cold water.” He stood and offered her his good hand again to hoist her up. 

“You sure you're up to walking? You look stiffer than usual.” He dropped her hand once she was upright, but he let it linger in case she needed the support. She shot him a smile. He’s such a gentleman. If she ever met his mother, she would praise the woman on how well she raised Kim. 

“I’ll be fine. It’s not too far either.” She touched his shoulder gently, letting her smile soften. “You think Valia would like to splash around too? It’s not a deep pond.” 

Kim, who held Valia very close to his heart, seemed to brighten up considerably at the suggestion. “She would love it!” 

Sylgja blushed at his beaming smile and quickly turned, waddling to her door. Dear Divines, she can’t handle how cute he is!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the extremely long wait!!! hope ya'll enjoy it! next part will be up fairly soon i think

Valia was the first in. She dashed like a bat out of hell, jumping into the water with such enthusiasm it was as if the giant horse was nothing but a foal again. An overgrown, muscled and scarred foal. 

Kim seemed just as eager at the promise at the sight of cool fresh water but before he could even get within five feet of it, Sylgja grabbed the back of his shirt. “What-?”

“You are not going to ruin all my hard work, alright?” She said sternly, eyeing him harshly. “Those stitches in your back aren’t going to help heal you if you go flouncing around with Valia.” Touched by her care, Kim turned and grasped one of her hands with his good one, easily engulfing it with his thick fingers. 

She looked straight into his eyes despite the growing blush. “Sylgja,” he smiled, “I promise to be careful. Don’t worry.” She looked away with a nod, but not before he squeezed her fingers for her attention again. When she met his eyes again, he was blushing too. “Would you, uh, help me get my clothing off though?”

She smiled and chuckled. “Of course.” He dropped her hand and stood straight as a rod when her fingers grabbed the bottom of his linen shirt. Up it went, left arm first and then his head before carefully untangling it from the sling of his right arm. Neither of them could deny their hot faces as they quietly continued. “There you go,” Sylgja murmured as she folded his shirt neatly. “Now shuck off those pants too.” 

Playfully muttering something about bossy women, Kim complied and Sylgja fumbled with her own clothing (she wasn’t looking at him, oh no, not watching the handsomely sculpted muscles of his back stretch as he bent over, or how the stitches seemed to make him look even more dangerous and attractive… oh no, not at all…). 

She followed her own shirt and pants, placing them next to Kim’s shirt on a dry rock. Kim awkwardly handed her his pants, trying not let his eyes travel part her shoulders. She had no problem with nudity, not really, but in front of Kim… Well, it felt a whole lot more intimate when the man you may have some affections for is alone with you, equally bare. 

Once his pants and their boots were also propped on the rock, Sylgja smiled at him and grabbed the soaps she had brought along. “Remember, don’t you dare pull those stitches out.”

He full on grinned at her, tusks gleaming as he offered her his hand. “Of course, of course. Come on. I think we both need to get cleaned up. You smell.” 

She huffed at him in mock offense, crossing her arms. She almost missed his eyes glimpsing down as her breasts pushed together from behind her breast band. “I think you’re smelling yourself. I bathe often.”

Before he could reply, she took his hand and yanked him toward the sandy shore, hobbling as fast as she could. Cool water always helped sooth her aching legs. “Come on!” 

They both gasped at the cold water that touched her toes and she reeled back, but Kim kept going, dragging her in after him. “No! It’s too cold!”

“The faster we go in, the less cold it will feel!” 

“No-!” She squealed, fighting half-heartedly as she tried to keep a laugh at bay. By the time she was full on shivering, they were waist deep in the water. “L-Let’s go back!” 

He turned to face her with that handsome grin she came to love. “On the count of three, let’s go under.”   
“Y-You’re crazy.” 

He only grinned wider. 

“One.” She bit her lip. “Two.” He looked like an excited child and she couldn’t help but smile back with a laugh. “Three-!”

She screeched and sunk down with him, clenching his fingers as hard as she could. His grasp was like warm like fire even under the chilly water. Her cheeks stung as they broke the surface with gasps and giggles. He dropped her hand with a laugh and swiped a strand of her hair from her face. “See. That wasn’t too bad, right?” She sucked in a shuddery breath with a laugh, despite the pleasant burn of the cool water on her face. He let his fingers smooth against her temple for more than necessary. Sylgja gripped the soap tighter in her other hand. 

“You’re so warm, you know that?” She breathed. 

He lowered his lids over those alluring eyes. “My magic is strong, Sylgja. Sometimes I forget that I use it to regulate my body. I don’t like the cold.”

He pressed his hand against her hip and she shuddered. It pulsated with warmth despite the cool water it was under. It made her tingly. She leaned a scant inch closer to his muscular chest. He pushed closer as well. “I ever tell you I like men with magic?”

He ducked his head lower to hers, “Well, I love a woman who-”

Valia vaulted over and dosed the two of them in the chilling water with a triumphant neigh. The two folk yelped and laughed. Sylgja fell against Kim’s chest with a laugh, his arm easily slipping around her waist as he too shook with humor.

“Valia!” He scowled, “Watch where you go trampling around!” The horse only snickered before running back to shore to find a higher spot to jump from. Sylgja placed her head on Kim’s collarbone with a smile. He really was warm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and sweet!! (but that just means we'll be getting to the good stuff sooner lmao)   
> enjoy!!

“It’s soft,” she murmured as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Reminds me of my mother's hair actually.”

Kim hummed in the back of his throat, eyes shut as his head laid limp against her legs. She was perched on some conveniently placed rocks and immediately began cleaning his hair. It was no longer than his ears when it was down, but somehow, it suited him. Funny hair for a funny man. Soft hair for a soft man. 

“You know,” she continued in a soft voice, “I only bathed alone since my parents left. Since the other villagers gave up on this place.” Back before the houses were being built, when tents were the means of sleeping. When fires were the closest thing to comfort.

Kim tilted his head back and looked at her with a small smile. “Then thank you for letting me bathe with you.”

She shook her head and rung out the water in his damp hair. “No. Thank you for coming. It was nice to have someone. It’s been too long.”

He sat up then and turned so his head was between her knees. Her breath caught as a rather… dirty thought crossed her mind. She liked the view of him between her legs. “Sylgja. I must confess something.”

She shivered in the cooling air. The sun was still in the sky, but nightfall is only a few hours away. He pressed his hand on the stone beside her hip to hoist himself closer, easily standing in the shallow water until he towered over her once more. Water slid across his skin like diamonds. 

His warm fingers brushed against the skin of her hips and she vaguely wondered if he even noticed the scars that marred her legs from the accident. 

“Tell me.” Her voice was quieter, hoarser than she anticipated. He stared at her and she stared back, unwilling to break contact with him. Her fingers itched to trace the lines of his face. “I have never courted someone before,” he spoke as softly as she had, his fingers now sliding along her arm. “I don’t know if I am doing this right. Am I being too optimistic to assume you would have me after such a short time knowing each other?” 

Her heart was thumping, but her mind was whirling around his words. He wanted to court her. “Kim.”

He lowered his head until their brows touched. “Sylgja.”

She swallowed the nervous heartbeat that had found a home in her throat. “Kiss me already. You’ve kept me   
waiting long enough.” 

His nose pressed against hers, his hand cradling the back of her head, and his lips against hers. She groaned and he sighed through his nose. It was strange she noticed, to kiss Kim. His tusks were cool against her lips. Odd, for she had never kissed an Orc before, but definitely not unwelcome, especially because it was Kim. His lips were slightly chapped but she didn’t care. She pressed closer, running her hands against his shoulders before grabbing hold of the back of his neck. She slipped her tongue out, pressing it to his lips. He happily responded by opening his mouth with a gruff groan. 

She smirked and laid back, bringing him with her. 

They had until sundown anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short bit! i have to focus even more on my classes now but don't worry! it shouldn't be too long until an update! hang in there ya'll

By the time the sun was lowering against the peaks of the mountains, Sylgja was ready to sleep. She had spent a fair amount of time with Kim, showing him exactly how the Nords courted. In all honesty, it was the best courting she ever experienced. Sure, she hadn’t been with another since she was a young teenager, but this time, she wasn’t the fumbling awkward one. It was endearing really, watching him blush and try not to become too embarrassed. Valia, bless that horse, had strayed quite far during their little rendezvous. 

Now, as they walked slowly back to Shor’s Stone, she gladly grasped his warm hand in her cool ones. Valia snorted a little behind her master as they followed the worn path back. “I think I like the Nord’s version of courting much better than the Bretons.”

“Oh?” She questioned, “What’s so different?”

He peered down at her. “Well, for one, it’s not proper to kiss another unless they have known each other for months.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “You’re joking.” He snorted and shook his head. Wow. “Thank the Divines you ended up here then. I don’t think I could go that long without jumping you.” He snorted and squeezed her hand. 

“I agree.”

When the torches of guards came into view, Kim gave Sylgja a look. “What?” She asked. He said nothing. Instead, he cleared his throat and loosened his grip on her hand. Her eyebrows shot up immediately and she tightened her grip. “If you think I'm ashamed to be holding your hand, you're sorely mistaken.” 

He looked both immensely pleased and wary. His fingers warmed until Sylgja felt as if she was about to touch a fire. “I am an Orc,” he mumbled softly, “I am looked down upon by all - even my own for having the blood of human in me.” His milky eyes held hers and he stopped walking. “I would be careful if I was you. My mother suffers much because of who she dedicated herself to.”

Sylgja furrowed her brows. Once again, he was putting her before his own self. He might not be fully Orc or completely human, but he is certainly a man worth her time. Nothing will change that. 

She placed her free hand on his jaw and he leaned against it ever so slightly. “I know Kim. I am no fool to the way racism is presented. But you should know that I won't let that stop me.” He huffed softly. The small smile that graced his lips made her grin as well. “You won't rid of me that easily.” 

He let go of her hand to instead cradle the back of her head. “So stubborn…” He pressed his forehead to hers and she pressed back with a laugh. “Thank Mara for that.”


End file.
